What a glorious thing a bicycle is – jaunty, elegant, almost glib in its nineteenth century simplicity, it’s the first mode of independent travel most of us come to know as children, and that last one left to us as adults in this over-governed age of ours. Think of it. For the price of a half-decent tourer anybody who wants to can set off to see a bit of the world any time they please, for free and at the drop of a hat, without so much as a by-your-leave to all those jealous authorities that tax, monitor, license and surcharge our every movement these days.
Simply wheel your machine out of the garden shed, sling yourself aboard and set off down the street. That’s it. You’re away. Near or far, the globe is yours for the trotting. There’s no hoops to jump through, no jackboot security, no queues, crowds, delays, cancellations, no hidden fees, advance bookings or speed cameras; just fresh air, an open road, and the responsibility for getting yourself wherever it is you wish to go. It’s the perfect restorative to a world made small and mean and over-familiar by too many frequent flier miles. I love it. Nearly every morning I’m up at sparrows and out the door for an hour or two of escape into this bigger, gentler, slower paced world. As a photographer I love the visuals of a bicycle in the landscape. And so I bring along my camera and tripod and a remote shutter release to capture something of the sense of freedom and jaunty expectancy that comes with being out and about, exploring the countryside on two skinny wheels.
Herewith a portfolio of my cycling photography, sample grabs from my early morning rides. In all of these images I am both the subject and the photographer